


Real Life Sleeping Beauty

by becsprime



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Anxiety Attacks, Comfort, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, I guess I'm the first to use that tag lol, Kleine-Levin Syndrome, M/M, Panic Attacks, Sleeping Beauty Elements, everyone comforts Akaashi because its what he deserves, except like actual medically
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-06-19
Updated: 2019-07-16
Packaged: 2020-05-14 14:52:22
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 9,464
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19275559
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/becsprime/pseuds/becsprime
Summary: Akaashi, now sixteen, is excited to become a first year.  His biggest fear is that his KLS will inhibit him, especially in his chances of making the volleyball team.  He wants nothing more than to be a normal teenager.  And maybe he can be, with some help along the way.(Disclaimer: I do not own any of the characters in this story.  Similarly, I do not have, nor am I an expert on Kleine-Levin Syndrome. If you find something offensive or incorrect, please let me know so I can fix it! If you have questions, you’re more than welcome to contact me and I’ll answer with the information I’ve researched to the best of my ability.)





	1. Beginnings

Akaashi Keiji’s days started the same as everyone else’s, except for one small detail: he was never sure what day it was. He was never sure how long he had been asleep until he got the chance to check his phone. He’d never been asleep for more than a day, but his episodes tended to last a few weeks at a time.

He was currently in the middle of one.

He thought it had already been about six days, so he estimated this episode had around a week and a half left. His time awake didn’t feel awake. Everything was fuzzy. It was like the feeling in your foot when it’s asleep, except Akaashi felt it through his whole body, through his brain. As he lie in bed, staring at the ceiling, he occasionally flexed his fingers to see if he was really alert. He was, and his stomach growled loudly as further evidence.

He couldn’t get up. He could visualize it, see his sleep-weary arms pushing his body off the mattress, but couldn't make the motions happen. Just as he felt angry tears start to prick at the corners of his eyes, he heard footsteps coming up the stairs, his door hinges creaking as they were slowly pushed open. Akaashi barely had the energy to lift his head. His stinging eyes lazily followed his mom as she backed into the room, carrying a tray laden with breakfast foods.

Waffles smothered in powdered sugar and syrup, bacon still sizzling, orange juice releasing a tangy zing into the air, fried eggs with their golden yolks staring sunnily down at him as his mother teetered over with the tray. If his stomach hadn’t already told him, his salivating mouth was a strong sign of his hunger.

“Hi, baby. I hoped you’d be awake by now. You’ve been asleep since 11 am yesterday, it’s now 9 am Thursday. I just finished making breakfast and was coming up to check on you.”

Akaashi wasn’t sure why she was whispering, but he didn’t draw attention to it as she set the food across his lap. He finally pooled the strength to drag his body upright, forcing his hand upwards, silently urging his fingers to grasp his fork. He knew his mother would take note of his struggle and stopped trying to move as he felt the prickle of eyes scanning his body. He awaited her routine onslaught of questions. Akaashi knew she meant well, but he wasn’t really feeling up to answering right now.

His mother brought her hands up to each side of his face, gently turning her son’s head toward her.

“How are you feeling, Keiji? Do you need anything else? Want me to help you to the bathroom before you eat? Here,”— she moved her hands from his head to take up his fork and knife—“let me cut up your waffles for you, will that make it easier to eat? I can feed you if you’d like, do you want that? What if—“

She was still going on, but Akaashi was having a hard time keeping up with what she was saying. He felt speech bubbling up in his chest. His frustration began to boil the longer his voice betrayed him.

“Mmmmmom,” he finally yawned. She had already finished cutting his waffles, placed the fork back in his open palm. He hadn’t noticed. Her rambling faded off with her son’s voice, nothing left but a low hum as she waited for him to finish his thought.

“Thank you,” he droned, monotone. “I’m just hungry. I think I wanna eat and then I’ll go back to sleep. Can you stay with me?”

His eyelids fell halfway closed against his will and he strained to watch her lips crest upward. She only nodded at him, attentive at the edge of his bed as he started on what she knew would be over an hour long meal. He asked her to stay, but she would’ve waited either way. Eventually, she crawled up beside him and combed her fingers through his inky curls as he chewed methodically. By now she knew if he didn’t agree to her assistance, it was better to just let him work on his own.

Akaashi’s tongue was exhausted, not really communicating with his brain as he placed his last strip of bacon between his teeth. He couldn’t taste anything. His jaw was aching. He felt it creak like a rusty latch, but he knew he needed the calories. It took him another twenty minutes to finish his eggs, not that he was counting (he was, and those twenty minutes put him five minutes over an hour). His mother had started to hum quietly beside him, sometime around his first sip of orange juice. The glass was half empty now. He trudged on, munching on waffles he wished he could taste because he knew they would be delicious. His mother stayed by his side the whole hour and forty-five minutes it took him to clean his plate.

“Thanks, mom.” He yawned again. “I think I actually need to use the bathroom. Can you help me there?”

She watched a blush blossom across his cheeks. “Of course. Let me bring this down first, I’ll be right back.”

After planting a kiss atop his head, she gathered up the tray and hurried out of the room. Keiji was aware of time passing, but it didn’t feel like too long until she was back with him again. She helped him push back the covers, taking his hands and guiding him out of bed. He swayed a little on his feet, but stayed upright with another yawn. A careful hand between his shoulders guided him across his room, another opened his bathroom door for him. He spent that little extra energy to plant a kiss on his mother’s cheek before leaning heavily on the counter en route to the toilet. He didn’t turn on the lights. They hurt his eyes, made his brain rattle against his skull.

His mother closed the door. She waited. Listened. After seven years, she thought she’d be over the swooping in her stomach with each episode, the little voice of anxiety in the back of her head that made her worry. What if’s filled her mind: what if Keiji tried to get up on his own and hurt himself because he was too weak, what if he felt faint trying to use the stairs and tumbled down them, what if sleep pulled him under somewhere other than home and they couldn’t find him, what if, what if, what if.

Five years since Keiji had been diagnosed with Kleine-Levin Syndrome and she still felt just as unprepared. Lost in her thoughts, she startled when the toilet flushed. She fumbled for the door, pulling it open as Keiji started washing his hands. He dried them and reached out for her, looping long fingers around her arm.

She herded her lamb back to bed slowly, tucking him in and brushing his hair back. He was out almost instantly. She watched the emerald eyes that matched her own as they fluttered shut again. He didn’t feel her lips press against his temple, didn’t hear her silently leave the room and shut his door.

The last thought he remembered was, Thank God it’s summer.

~

Akaashi was ready to start his first year at Fukurodani Academy. He had left behind his old school, his old friends, his old problems; he was ready to start fresh. He still wanted to play volleyball. The school knew about his condition. That meant they also knew that between episodes he was a perfectly normal, functioning human being. One who was more than good at volleyball, at that. His one wish was that the coach would see his skill, not his illness, and let him be on the team. He went through the school day with tryouts on his mind and a hopeful heart.

The second the final bell rang he had to physically restrain himself from sprinting to the gym, successfully walking there at a brisk and outwardly relaxed pace.

He opened the doors and was hit full force by a battle cry. The power of it made him stagger back a step.

“ONE MORE!!!!”

A tall, muscular boy with the craziest hair Akaashi had ever seen screeched and bounced on his toes, waiting for the toss. An overly exhausted looking setter sent it up (Akaashi mentally made note of the ball’s trajectory), and the spiker started his run up. He threw his arms back— Akaashi thought he bore an uncanny resemblance to an owl— and in a flash he was at the net, thighs straining as he launched himself into the air. He went up, up, up, his arm pulled back, fingers flexed, his other arm out as a guide, and—

The ball hit him square in the chest.

Akaashi deleted his mental note. The boy came back to earth, looking a little defeated, but perked back up as he switched his focus over to the setter, who was now officially dead on his feet. He slapped him hard on the back. It resounded through the gym. The setter’s eyes widened as he stumbled forward.

“HEY, HEY, HEY, Thanks anyway Konoha!” Akaashi was unsure if this owl boy knew how to speak at a normal volume.

“Bokuto, it’s the first day. I’m tired already and we literally just got here. I’m not even a setter. I’m sorry for the bad tosses, but please quiet down. You’re gonna scare away the first-years,” Konoha responded with a wince.

The other boy, Akaashi now knew was Bokuto, seemed to instantly forget Konoha. His eyes lit up as they scanned over the gym entrance. Akaashi hadn’t even noticed the two people who had entered behind him, he was so caught up in the actions unfolding before him and his own curiosity as to just how long the two older boys had been in the gym. Keiji felt it was probably safe to assume the two at his back were also first-years based on the manic grin spreading across Bokuto’s face.

“HEY!” Bokuto bounded over to them, feet stomping with enough force to make the gym floor rumble. Akaashi watched the other two first-years share frightened grimaces.

“I’m Bokuto Koutarou! I’m a second-year and I’m the ace! What positions do you play?” Bokuto shouted when he finally came to a stop before the three. The two beside him looked less than willing to go first, so Akaashi took it upon himself to start.

“Hello, Bokuto-san,” he said and bowed his head. “My name is Akaashi Keiji. I am a setter.”

Akaashi watched a fire blaze in his golden eyes as his grin grew impossibly wider. A huge hand clamped down on his shoulder.

“Well, ‘Kaashi, I think you and I are gonna be great friends! Do you think you could toss for me?” Bokuto’s head cocked to the side at an odd angle, his eyes burning brighter with hope and something else Akaashi couldn’t quite decipher. Some mix of determination and trust. But they had just met? Before Akaashi could reply or even register the mispronunciation of his name, Konoha stepped into the group.

“Bo, tryouts haven’t even started. Let the poor kid make the team before you harass him.” Konoha’s tired gaze swept over Akaashi. “I pray for your stamina. Our setter just graduated,” he whispered so only Akaashi would hear, throwing him a pitying half smile. He then turned politely to the other first-years that Bokuto seemed to have lost interest in. They both chorused that they wanted to be wing spikers.

Akaashi didn’t miss Konoha’s friendly smile turn apologetic as his face moved out of the view of the other two newbies. He started walking back towards the court where the rest of the returning members were, Akaashi and the others quick to follow.

A whistle sounded. They all turned toward its source— the coach— as he began to bark at them.

“Get warmups started! Four laps around the gym and five reps of diving drills across the court! Go!”

And with a clap from the coach, the group snapped into action. Tryouts had begun.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Howdy! I initially posted this over on my writing Tumblr (@/midnightcomposition), but I've made some edits and made it my first AO3 fic. I'd love to hear all thoughts, and if you see any errors please tell me (I'm my own beta reader)


	2. Work This Out

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Keiji takes on the Fukurodani tryouts and experiences a whole different kind of exhaustion.

Akaashi couldn’t remember the last time he’d been this tired— and that was saying something. They were on their first break of the tryouts, having finished warmups and partner drills to determine their grasp of the basics. He was still reeling from the drills, wondering why Bokuto had chosen to pair up with him when he had six of his previous teammates to choose from. And whether or not he was trying to kill him. Granted, Bokuto’s playing power was raw and unpredictable, but Akaashi’s was calculated and exact. The spontaneity was wearing him out, but that didn’t mean he couldn’t keep up.

Either way, he was still thankful for the water break.

The thumping of heavy steps behind him put him on alert, making sure his bottle was tightly closed as they continued to quickly approached.

“AGKAAAAAASHI!!!” What was quickly becoming a signature smack vibrated Akaashi’s entire being, but he stayed steady on his feet. “That was a good rally!” Bokuto shifted his eyes side to side, giving Akaashi a conspiratorial look and dropping his voice to what he probably thought was a whisper. “Between you and me—“ he checked the surroundings another time and seemed to deem that two feet away from the rest of the group was far enough— “I’m almost a hundred percent positive you’ll make the team. We need a good setter.”

“Bokuto-san, you haven’t even seen me set yet.”

Bokuto squawked loudly, arms wheeling behind him and eyes popping open. Just as suddenly as he had burst into action, his body drew taut, a hand coming up to cup his chin in thought.

“You’re right,” he mused, “but we’re probably gonna do three-on-three’s next! You have to be on my team, Akaashi!”

Keiji stared at him quizzically, an eyebrow cresting upward. He inhaled to respond, and a whistle rung out. Bokuto grinned, spun on his heels, and dashed over to Coach Yamiji as he announced the next activity. Their group of ten was swarmed around him in seconds.

“Alright, good hustle everyone! We’re gonna start three-on-three’s now.” Akaashi didn’t miss the smirk Bokuto threw over his shoulder. “I’ll be pairing you up and rotating as I see fit”— the smirk died— “and we’ll be playing shortened matches. First team to fifteen wins. Everyone get on the line!”

Much to Bokuto’s disappointment, Akaashi and the other two first years were all put on a team together against Bokuto, Konoha, and Komi. His shoulders sagged as Akaashi was handed a ball on the opposite side of the court.

“It’s my serve first, Bokuto-san. I won’t go easy on you.”

Akaashi didn’t know why he said it, but it made Bokuto stand up straighter and his eyes smolder like molten metal. A chuckle pressed between his gritted teeth, barely reaching Keiji's ears across the court. Akaashi made a mental note while walking to the back line: very competitive.

He took a deep breath as he hit the line, crossed a few paces behind it. Boom boom. Boom boom. Boom boom. Akaashi wasn’t sure what was louder, his heart or the ball smacking the court under his hands. He hoped it was the latter. He breathed slowly in again, closed his eyes, tossed the ball up. His approach began. He took his first leap forward, threw his arms back like wings unfurling; his second bound launched him into the air and he snapped his arms upward, an archer pulling back on his bowstring. He opened his eyes. The ball was suspended perfectly in front of him and he pounded his hand through it like a knife through butter. His feet barely touched the wood again before he was wheeling back into position on the court; his eyes never left the ball.

It slammed into the back left corner on the opposite side of the net, right where he wanted it.

Silence rang out through the gym. The ball softly finished its course, lightly bouncing off the back wall and rolling to a stop. Coach jotted something down on his clipboard.

“Well,” his voice broke the quiet, pen tapping the board impatiently. “Is someone gonna go get the ball, or should I come back tomorrow night?”

The gym burst back into life. The first years— Akaashi had yet to learn their names, but based on how they struggled through drills thus far he didn’t expect them to stick around— ran up to him with a round of high fives and “Nice serve!”’s. Someone rolled the ball back under the net, and Akaashi made the mistake of meeting Bokuto’s eyes as he knealt to grab it.

They were trained on him, widened in surprise, before he realized Akaashi had caught his gaze and attempted to school his expression. He didn’t do a very good job. The corners of his mouth twitched up into an eager grin. Akaashi felt his lips begin to mirror that competitive smirk, and he hurriedly popped to his feet and turned his back to hide it. As he walked again behind the line, ball in hand, he looked across the net to see three sets of faces growing steadily more serious.

The second years crushed them. The other two on his team crumbled under the pressure; Akaashi did most of the work carrying them, but one person can’t fill every position. His tosses went up faultlessly, receives with perfect trajectory, dumps evenly interspersed. And it still wasn’t enough.

Across the net, the second years weaved between each other with the practiced ease that only comes with experience. Bokuto only hit crosses, but they were so powerful— when they succeeded— all three first years together couldn’t stop them. They tried once, in the hopes of shutting him down. The ball shot through their hands and burrowed into the court behind them. With no one to cover the block, it ricocheted almost up into the rafters. They didn’t put three on him again. Konoha tried his best as a setter. His tosses had an accuracy rate high enough to rack up points, and his hits were a force to be reckoned with. The first years were never prepared when he sent a spike hurtling into the front line. Komi hardly missed a receive. Each ball he sent up floated perfectly over Konoha’s head or straight into the middle of the court, high enough for the second contact. He set a few times also, and while he wasn’t as good as Konoha, he got the job done. The disjointed first years skating by on the coattails of one were no match for their cohesive team of three.

They fought to the end and accepted defeat graciously. Coach called a five minute water break.

Akaashi slumped on the bench, towel around his neck and water bottle in hand. He wanted to go again. He felt the adrenaline burning in his chest, pounding against his rib cage. A body plopped down beside him. Akaashi didn’t turn his head, the feet tapping an almost hysterical beat were evidence enough, even in the less than an hour time that he’d known him.

“Bokuto-san,” Akaashi mumbled around his water bottle. “Good game.”

Bokuto dropped his head into Akaashi’s field of vision, folding himself almost completely in half. He shot him another conspiratorial glance. “You too, ‘Kaashi. Am I allowed to say I’m a hundred percent positive you’ll make the team now?” Akaashi couldn’t help the snort that slipped through his defenses.

“Nothing is set in stone, Bokuto-san.”

Coach whistled for the end of break, and everyone moved to huddle up again. Akaashi set his things down calmly and stood, Bokuto quick to follow.

“Ok, I’m gonna change some things up for this next round.” He consulted his clip board for a moment, tapping his pen against the back. “Bo, Komi, and Akaashi, I want you back on the court.” Bokuto elbowed Akaashi a little less than inconspicuously, eyebrows wiggling across his forehead. Keiji rolled his eyes. Coach started again, “Opposite them, I want Konoha, Washio, and Sarukui. Furuya and Higashi”— Akaashi finally had names— “good hustle. Grab some water and join the third years.” Shoes squeaked as they all scurried to their respective positions, ready for the next match to start.

This round posed more of a fight, and Akaashi was thriving. He melded with his seniors like he was born to be there. He wasn’t familiar with their preferred sets yet, but each of his tosses was high and off the net enough to allow both players to get under them with ease. Komi gave optimal receives nearly every time, Bokuto, shouting an, “AKAASHI,” slammed the ball down the opposing side’s throats. They won by a smooth but hard fought three points.

Akaashi thought this was probably his most satisfying match in a long time, his most polished tryout ever, and they still had an hour left.

After each boy had had another short water break, the coach had them play a quick round of five-on-five and then do some serving one at a time to a receiver on the other side of the net. With that, they finished the tryout. Akaashi’s optimistic mood never faded. The energy in the gym was high, and he never wanted to leave it. It felt like he had been part of this team for years with how easily he was swept into their current. The two third years, Matsui and Aoyama, middle blocker and defensive specialist respectively, were so welcoming to the prospective first years and absolutely preened over them with each good play, especially over Akaashi; the second years had an intoxicating energy that was impossible to escape, swooping Akaashi into their elated camaraderie like a leaf in the wind. He wanted nothing more than to make the team. A voice in the back of his mind told him he would.

Or maybe it was just the loaded look Bokuto gave him after high fiving everyone and heading toward the locker room. Either way, Akaashi got changed and headed home with a buoyancy in his heart that was difficult to contain.

His high spirits lasted well into the night.

~

The next morning, Akaashi, with dark circles under his eyes that betrayed his previous night’s uncharacteristic lack of sleep, rushed to the gym as fast as his exhausted body could carry him without seeming hurried. He composed himself back to his regular, seemingly inexpressive visage as he raised his sights to the list taped up to the club room door.

FUKURODANI ACADEMY 2017-2018 VOLLEYBALL TEAM

MANAGERS:  
Kaminari Rikku (3)

Sirofuku Yukie (2)

CAPTAIN:  
Matsui Daisuke (3) MB

VICE CAPTAIN:  
Bokuto Koutarou (2) WS

TEAM:  
Aoyama Kazumi (3) DS

Washio Tatsuki (2) MB

Sarukui Yamato (2) WS

Konoha Akinori (2) WS

Komi Haruki (2) L

Akaashi Keiji (1) S

An almost imperceptible spark to his eyes was the only indicator of his excitement. Inside his head he was screaming, jumping up and down, lighting off imaginary fireworks. He felt a little bad for Furuya and Higashi, but he had a feeling in his gut that they would’ve quit anyway— they were more dead on their feet at the end of tryouts than Akaashi was during one of his KLS episodes. On the other hand, Keiji had felt energized after the tryout, ready to run a marathon or swim to Hawaii or stay up all night and agonize silently over whether or not he made the team. Even with his lack of sleep he was ready, looking forward to the first official practice that afternoon. Unbidden, a smile crept its way across his lips.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello again! This took a little longer than I would've liked, but in my defense I had some college activities that needed attending. I hope better late than never still applies here. Please tell me what you think! And, as always, if you see any errors please let me know! Thank you!


	3. Breathe a Little

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Akaashi has finally made the team and he's soaking in the excitement... he thinks.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There is some content that can be uncomfortable, so if you're worried about triggers check the end notes! It's not a huge spoiler, but it is a big portion of this chapter.

“HEY, HEY, HEY! AKAASHI!” Bokuto screamed up at Akaashi from the bottom of the club room stairs. His streaked hair flopped slightly as he took the steps two at a time, landing somewhat unsteadily on the balls of his feet beside Akaashi. He draped an arm over Akaashi’s shoulder, likely a last ditch effort to stabilize himself, and scanned quickly over the list.

“Congratulations, Bokuto-san,” Akaashi said with a small nod.

“Oho ho ho! I told you you would make it, ‘Kaashi!” His grin was blinding, eyes crinkled against the force of his own joy.

“Yes, Bokuto-san, but you didn’t tell me you would be Vice Captain.”

Bokuto’s head snapped back to the list so fast, Akaashi thought it could’ve gone around full circle. He watched those golden eyes practically bulge out of his head, hair grow impossibly fluffier, jaw drop low enough for Akaashi to see all his teeth. And then a piercing screech erupted from the taller, supposedly older, boy.

“AHGKAAAAAAAAAAAAAAASHIIIII!!!!!!!!!!”

Bokuto kept darting his head between the door and Akaashi, not sure which to focus on, before finally locking gold on green and grabbing Akaashi’s shoulders in both hands. He shook him around like a rag doll. Akaashi couldn’t even hear his own protests over the sound of his brain rattling in his skull. His eyes started to roll in his head with each jolt back and forth. The final shake launched Akaashi’s face forward into Bokuto’s very broad, very defined chest, beefy arms roping around his middle like a vice. All he could manage was a muffled, “Bokuto-san,” before Bokuto started yelling again.

“AKAASHI, I DIDN’T TELL YOU BECAUSE I DIDN’T KNOW IT WAS GOING TO HAPPEN!!!! AAAAAGHHHHAHAHAHA! WE HAVE TO GO CELEBRATE!”

Bokuto then took to leaping around in a circle, finally releasing Akaashi from his death grip only to reattach himself to Akaashi’s wrist. His eyes widened slightly in surprise. He’d never felt fragile before, but Bokuto’s huge hands made Akaashi fear for the safety of his bones, especially now that his wrist was on the line. He dragged his free fingers through his curls and huffed, let himself be dragged forward a step before grounding his heels into the metal flooring. His face fell back to flat.

“We still have to attend class today, Bokuto-san.”

Honey eyes sobered immediately.

“You’re right.” His brows plummeted down his forehead, face squinching in thought, hand flying from Akaashi’s wrist to cup his own chin. After a few minutes, he snapped his fingers into finger guns directly in Keiji’s blank face. He didn’t flinch. “Well, how about we celebrate after practice, Akaashi! What do you say? I know a really good yakiniku place not too far from school, we could walk there!”

In less than a second, Keiji weighed the pros and cons, mulling it over and coming to the conclusion that bonding with the team ace would probably be a good idea. After all, he would be setting primarily to him.

“Sure, I’ll go.”

“WOOHOOO!!” Bokuto took to prancing in a circle again, coming to a stop only so he could fist bump the air vigorously.

Akaashi didn’t know how to react to that, but he assumed people eventually got used to his endless energy. For now, he simply observed the theatrics.

~

By the middle of practice, Akaashi was wishing he could go back in time and eat his own words— or, well, thoughts. The excitement of being on the roster had already given him an abnormal amount of zing all day, making him feel almost unsteady with its power, but it still wasn’t nearly enough to keep up with Bokuto. He knew being the only setter was gonna be hard work, and he was by no means in bad shape, but Bokuto didn’t know what the word quit meant. It looked like each good spike only succeeded in giving him more energy. Akaashi was running around like a chicken with his head cut off. There was absolutely no way anyone could get used to this much energy.

He had to admit, for all his rambling, Bokuto was a good leader. But Akaashi could feel his muscles starting to ache from the strain. He couldn’t believe he was hoping they’d run laps or start receive drills again.

During water break, Akaashi approached Bokuto for a change.

“Bokuto-san, can I ask you something?”

Bokuto’s thousand watt smile smacked Akaashi across the face as he spun on his heels to face him. Water dribbled out of the side of his mouth to run down his shirt front with the force.

“Of course, Akaashi! Anything for my beloved first years!”

Akaashi decided against bringing attention to the fact that he was the only first year, eye twitching slightly as Bokuto took to bouncing on his toes. Which brought Akaashi’s mind back to his question.

“Where do you get so much energy?”

Bokuto flopped his head to the side almost curiously except for the fact that his teeth flashed brighter with a widening smile.

“Well, actually, I used to die during practice I’d get so tired, but now I go on a run every morning for about eight or so miles. Just to get my blood pumping a little before morning practice.” His hands smacked his face and then waved manically in front of him with the words, a short groan escaping from low in his throat. “Don’t tell Coach, though, I promised not to over exert myself! It’s not really over exertion, though, because it doesn’t make me tired anymore! Trust me!”

Akaashi blinked at him for a few seconds. Maybe hours. He wasn’t really sure at this point. His brain had gone completely blank, eight or so miles bouncing for an indeterminate amount of time between his ears. Externally, he looked the same as always, stoic face unchanging, but he was freaking out on the inside. Guess I should start running, he thought once his mind started functioning semi-normally again. A little voice in the back of his head complained that he still felt weird; he chose to ignore it.

“I’m sure that’s true. I won’t tell Coach, Bokuto-san. Thank you,” he spoke to his shoes with a curt nod. He didn’t notice the small upturn of his lips, wasn’t aware enough to try to suppress it, and Bokuto wasn’t yet experienced enough to know the full weight of his smirk. Akaashi didn’t hear the “No, thank you ‘Kaashi!” as he stood back up, didn’t sense the eyes on his back as he walked away, didn’t feel fully present as Coach whistled for the end of break.

Practice finished with partner passing drills, and they were finally free. It was 5 o’clock. Bokuto was practically vibrating with excitement, shouting that he had an announcement for the team.

“I wanna celebrate the new team, and let us all get to know our new kouhai a little bit better, so what about we all go out for dinner together!? What do you say?”

No one could deny Bokuto with that childlike light burning in his eyes, not that anyone wanted to to begin with. A hearty yes resounded through the gym, and the team seemed to have newfound energy in cleaning up. Akaashi was looking forward to it that much more. His lips felt a little wobbly at all the smiles directed his way throughout the tear-down process. 

Maybe I can have real friends for once. 

He excused himself to the bathroom before he could make himself cry, hiding the sting behind splashes of cold water. An alert went up in his brain that he was being too emotive; he assumed it was just from beginning to find his groove with the new team. He headed into the locker room to find everyone had already begun getting changed. Hurriedly he followed suit, dressing back into his uniform before anyone else. He set his bag in front of his locker. There was something he needed to do before they left, for his own peace of mind.

“I’ll be back, I have to speak to Coach. You all can go on with out me,” Akaashi said before leaving the locker room. He didn’t wait for a response; he would meet them there. It would be fine. It’s gonna be fine. He kept that looping in his head. He felt shakier than normal, feeling too much all at once, his heart racing a little too fast as he made the trek to Coach Yamiji’s office. The door had materialized in front of him before he could wonder any longer why he was feeling everything so sharply. He knocked before stepping inside.

“Hi, Coach. I wanted to talk to you a little bit before we get too far into the season.”

Yamiji looked up from his computer screen, setting his work aside to give his student his undivided attention.

“Of course, Akaashi. What’s on your mind?”

Akaashi took a seat in front of his desk, momentarily letting himself be distracted by the shelves of trophies, the walls lined with plaques and news headlines, the hooks mounted with medals, all on display behind an equally impressive coach. His thumbs twirled like dancers about each other, without his control.

“Well, I’m not quite sure how to start this, so I guess I’ll jump right in. I believe you know about my… condition?”

He hesitated to glance upward, getting a singular nod in response.

“I just wanted to talk to you about this, or, well my, disease a little, if that’s ok? I don’t really have control over my episodes. I take medication to help prevent episodes or put them off for as long as possible, but ultimately they come over me randomly. I know I’m a liability to the team, but I want nothing more than to play. But if at any point you decide it would be better if I—“

“Akaashi, I’m sorry to interrupt, but I need to tell you something before you finish that sentence.” Akaashi blinked owlishly at his coach, feeling his heart racing but pausing his speech in compliance.

“I wouldn’t have chosen you for this team if I didn’t think it would be worth it. I knew about your disease the second you turned in your application, it’s on record with the school. I have to say, I was a little skeptical at first. But, after the skill, the hard work, the motivation, I saw at the tryout and at practice today, I have no doubt in my mind that this team needs you. I researched as much as I could about Kleine-Levin Syndrome so I have some semblance of what’s going on and how to handle the immediate needs of an emergency, so don’t freak out too much about the uncontrollable and unexpected. But most importantly, I want you to know that whatever happens, we’ll work through it. I believe in you, and I want you to know that if anything bad happens, it’s not your fault. No one on this team will blame you—“ Akaashi’s eyes widened, mouth opening, but Coach continued on— “And before you ask, I haven’t told them about your condition. I figured that was something you should be able to do on your own terms. But keep in mind, while I can already tell your skills as a setter are something incredible, and something that this team will no doubt help you nurture and build upon, if anything unexpected is to happen, Konoha can hold his own while you take time to get back to us. It’s gonna be fine. I look forward to a strong three years with you on our team.”

Coach gave him a smile when he finished. Akaashi felt hot tears pouring unbidden down his cheeks, bringing one shaky set of fingers up in a desperate attempt to wipe them away. He choked out a thank you, standing to bow, putting a hand out to shake his coach’s hand. Yamiji reciprocated warmly, ruffling Akaashi’s curls before sitting back in his desk.

“Go have fun with your teammates. I’ll see you tomorrow morning.”

Coach passed Keiji a tissue. He took it graciously and stepped out of the room. The sharp feeling hadn’t gone away, had actually gotten a little worse, and he slid down the wall outside the office door, cradling his head in his hands and trying to suck in air around the tightness in his throat. He felt relieved from what Yamiji said, ecstatic in fact that he had such an understanding person in his life besides his mother. 

So why was he feeling so terrified?

He couldn’t breathe, everything felt muted like he was underwater, but hightened at the same time. He looked at his hands. They were convulsing. He didn’t need to feel his pulse to know his heart was beating beyond a healthy tempo— he could hear it pounding prominently in his ears.

He was sure this was a panic attack. This wasn’t the first time; having an illness that struck him unpredictably led to a less than stress free life. But his anxiety medication was supposed to prevent this. At least, it had so far. He tried to think through his day, remember if he’d taken his pills, but he couldn’t do it.

He couldn’t focus.

He couldn’t breathe.

Unsteadily, he got to his feet, stumbling back toward the locker room. He needed to get to his bag, needed to see if he’d taken his pills at lunch. He was starting to think he hadn’t. His fumbling fingers fished for the doorknob. His knees were wobbling at a concerning velocity, and he leaned heavily into the door, pushing it open with his bodyweight alone. He could feel the sweat dripping down his face, his neck, his back. He might have been hyperventilating, but he couldn’t hear it over the sound of his heart slamming painfully into his rib cage, couldn’t feel oxygen flooding his lungs like it should be.

“AGKAA— …Akaashi?”

Akaashi’s eyes were like a caged animal’s as they darted upwards, quickly taking in Bokuto’s form from where it had leapt off the locker room bench, arms slowly falling from where he’d thrown them above his head. He had dropped his bag in the process of his stunted flight, and the sound of it was echoing in Akaashi’s brain. The reverberation was making his body vibrate at an inhuman rate. That, or his convulsions were getting worse. The thought sent him into a further panic. A sob wrenched its was through his clenched jaw.

“I, uhmm… bag,” he forced out of his meddled mouth, a convulsing hand pointing limply toward his locker, bag still neatly tucked in front of it on the bench.

Bokuto sprang into action, retrieving the bag as Akaashi crumpled to the floor. Akaashi watched, detached in breath and body, as it was set beside him, as Bokuto knealt down before him, grabbed his hand, placed it on his own chest.

“Ok, ‘Kaashi. Can you hear me?”

A feeble nod. His eyes couldn’t focus. He wasn’t sure what was going on, but the beating under his fingertips was more grounding than the floor swaying under his legs.

“Good. I want you to breathe with me, ok? Ready? In. Out.”

Bokuto made an exaggerated show of sucking a breath in, holding it a moment, releasing it, repeating the action again and again. Hours may have passed sitting on the floor like that, until Akaashi finally started to feel his head clear. He kept breathing with Bokuto, but turned his face to his bag, using his free hand to rummage for his meds. Today’s box was full. Just as he thought. He set the container on the floor, his shaking hand making a lame attempt to open it and quitting in frustration, coming away and fisting to hide the shaking. God he was still shaking. He couldn’t stop staring at his own fist and oh god he could feel his chest start to heave again, he was going to throw up, he—

Calm fingers cupped his chin, pulling his attention back to golden eyes that were smoldering slowly, warm, comforting, back to the heartbeat pulsing steadily under his palm.

“Shh. Keep breathing with me, yeah? Just close your eyes. In and out.”

Akaashi let his eyelids flutter shut, let the soothing sounds wash over him. He heard a faint pop. The hand not caged to Bokuto’s chest was opened inch by inch, small pills placed in his palm. Keiji brought them to his lips robotically, let them roll onto his tongue. A water bottle was given to him. He took it, sucked in a mouthful, swallowed everything down.

Back to breathing. In and out. In and out. In, out.

He knew it took half an hour for his meds to kick in, knew that when he started to breathe normally on his own again it meant Bokuto had sat there with him for thirty minutes, more with the initial meltdown added in. 

He was embarrassed. He’d only known Bokuto for a day and now he had broken down in front of him. But instead of freaking out, Bokuto had been calm and supportive. Gratitude began to ebb over Keiji in waves. If he had had any tears left to cry, they would have bubbled over his swollen eyes. Instead, he tried to speak.

“Bokuto-san. Th-thank you, I—“ his voice cut off and he couldn’t get anything out again. He let his teeth click back into place.

“Hey, don’t worry about it,” Bokuto murmured after a few moments. “My little sister gets anxiety attacks a lot, I could see the signs. How are you feeling? If you’re not up to meeting with the team, I can walk you home.”

Bokuto was speaking slowly and quietly. Akaashi was sure he would’ve been surprised if he wasn’t so shaken. Only now that he was on his way back to normal could he hear the slight buzzing of Bokuto’s phone from where it lay, forgotten, in his fallen bag, could he see his inanely large pill organizer sitting with today’s date opened, on the floor. He looked at the clock up on the wall. It read 6:15. That was probably one of his quickest recoveries from a panic attack, though he wasn’t fully stable yet. He was overwhelmed again with gratitude that Bokuto didn’t press for why he had panicked or why he needed so much medication; he wasn’t sure he was ready to entrust those answers to anyone.

Some irrational part of his brain still wanted to meet up with the team, wanted Bokuto to pick up his phone and tell them they were on their way. His stomach growled to agree with it.

“I think I need to sit down a little longer. But I want to go see everyone.”

Bokuto’s eyebrows raised almost imperceptibly before he nodded and smiled his best reassuring smile.

“Sure thing, Akaashi! Here, have some more water.”

Akaashi let himself be mothered until his head fully cleared, his hands stopped shaking, his heart nestled back in his chest, his legs supported his weight on their own. He chugged the rest of water. His face was set in determination.

“Thank you, Bokuto-san,” he said in his usual monotone, bowing low enough to kiss his knees. “I don’t know how I’ll ever be able to make this up to you.”

“Hey hey hey, it’s no problem! I promise! I’m just glad you’re ok! We can’t be losing our setter on the first day, now, can we?” That wild grin snapped to serious in less time than it took Akaashi to blink. “Are you sure you still wanna go out, though? I swear it’s no trouble at all if you want to go home. I have no problem making sure you get there safely.”

“Yes, I’m sure, Bokuto-san. Thank you for your concern. I actually have worked up quite the appetite. Though, if it’s not too much to ask, would you be willing to accompany me home afterward?”

“Yeah! Of course! Now, let’s go get some yakiniku!!” He hooted loudly, hefting his bag up from its resting place on the floor, the strap finding a home on his forehead in his haste.

Akaashi stared after him for a moment, letting himself take one final deep breath. He gathered his things and stumbled out the door, composing himself as he caught up with the black and white head bobbing cheerily along. There were many things he felt he was going to learn from his new team. A sharp jolt of anticipation swept through his veins, almost completely washing out the aftershocks of his anxiety attack. He sighed as they left the gym, listening to the sound of their feet change as they smacked against the concrete, of Bokuto chattering happily about grilled meat. Finally, he let himself relax.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Trigger warning: Panic/anxiety attack. Additional tags have been added. To skip it, stop reading at "So why was he feeling so terrified?" and start back up at "Some irrational part of his brain still wanted to meet up with the team" 
> 
> Thank you for your patience with me! I'd love to hear your thoughts; comments and kudos are what keep me going! If you notice any mistakes, please let me know!


	4. Meet Over Meat

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> What can be better after a little emotional exhaustion than an unending supply of protein?

The walk to the yakiniku place felt relatively short. Bokuto kept Akaashi’s mind occupied the whole time, talking about food or volleyball or owls or whatever thought came into his head at any particular moment. Akaashi found himself breathing easier in the outdoors.

Maybe it was the company. He didn’t have time to dwell on that thought, though.

“Well, here we are!” Bokuto threw his arms open wide and came to a sudden halt in front of a little hole-in-the-wall restaurant. If Bokuto hadn’t known about the place beforehand, he was sure there was no way anyone would notice it through sight alone. 

Akaashi was skeptical, but the smell wafting through the door and marinating throughout his very being was quite convincing. Not to mention the affirmative growl emitting from his stomach. Bokuto rushed in the door, holding it open as an afterthought for Akaashi, and ran toward the calls of their teammates. Akaashi took a minute to look around, soaking in the earthy tones of the restaurant, the lights on but dimmed slightly to avoid being too harsh, the exposed kitchen that looked surprisingly sterile for such a small place, the mouthwatering smell that had become even more hypnotizing after the door opened. 

Eventually, Akaashi followed Bokuto calmly, a small wave greeting everyone as he took a seat between Aoyama and Bokuto. Matsui sat across from him with a kindhearted smile, Washio and Komi flanking him on either side and smirking at each other across his body. Konoha and Sarukui sat across from each other at the end of the table, chatting animatedly and finishing Akaashi’s mental headcount. All eight were now here.

“We ordered an all-you-can-eat while we waited for you, so dig in!” Matsui offered an even toothier grin as Bokuto and Akaashi settled in, “Don’t worry about helping pay, it’s my treat! Pay me back with your dedication, and let’s have a good year!” Everyone raised their glasses to that, clinking them with a yell.

Akaashi couldn’t remember the last time he had laughed so much or fallen so easily into conversation. He was already catching nuances in the team dynamics, soaking in his newfound knowledge like a sponge.

He learned Komi had a hamster that he was teaching to play volleyball. Video evidence was given at the numerous skeptical shouts he received, and Akaashi could barely stifle his giggles behind a hand as the tiny mammal fell asleep holding a miniature volleyball. He assured everyone that he was working on it, and that Libby had definitely passed a ball back to him before. Konoha snickered loudly from the opposite side of the table, earning himself a piece of meat to the face. But it never really made contact.

It never made contact because, as Akaashi quickly found out, Konoha was surprisingly good at catching food in his mouth. No matter what was thrown to him, he effortlessly caught it. Matsui wasn’t upset about the whole throwing food fiasco until Bokuto gave it a try, pieces of meat littering the floor around him with each failed attempt, juice dripping down his face. He had about a 70 percent accuracy rate as opposed to Konoha’s absolute 100%. Konoha promised to give him pointers some other time, phrasing close enough to a challenge to prompt another round of attempts from Bokuto. A shadow passed over Matsui’s face, and Akaashi let his attention wander elsewhere as the captain threatened Bokuto against wasting another precious slice of beef. 

Aoyama was more of a listener, and Akaashi found himself drawn to his quiet energy. He kept whispering sarcastic comments under his breath, and from Akaashi’s seat next to him, he could pick up on all of them. A surprised snort escaped him on more than one occasion. He didn’t miss the quietly proud smiles he got in response to the acknowledgement.

Washio, despite his outward appearance, was the most gentle giant Akaashi had ever met. Grilled meat magically appeared before each person in an almost endless stream, a glimpse of Washio silently sliding a cut onto Akaashi’s plate the only way he knew its source. No one else seemed surprised by the almost motherly way steak materialized upon their plates. Keiji momentarily locked eyes with him, nodding his head in silent thanks and finding the action mirrored as the careful administration of beef continued. Akaashi was probably more grateful than most purely based on the fact that he could out-eat his entire team; they would become more conscious of his hyperphagia at another time. For now, he was content to eat all the meat that appeared before him by the hands of his current guardian angel.

Sarukui was a fountain of sunshine and puns, telling each person at the table how “udder-ly excited” he was for the season at least five times before moving to asking if they were “a-moo-sed” by his word play. A piece of meat held fast between his chopsticks served to punctuate each pun. Several sighs and eye rolls made themselves prominent. Akaashi quickly determined this was a common occurrence, and let it amuse him for the time being.

A pang went through his chest when everyone was done eating. Oddly enough, being with the team had helped him settle; he felt almost completely calm now. Akaashi wondered, as they all continued to sit, if this is what it would be like to have siblings, this constant stream of chatter and fond smiles and playful teasing. He took comfort in the fact that he had this year to enjoy getting to know everyone, to meld into their family. 

His feet planted purposefully on the ground to follow as everyone stood from their seats. When everyone was up, bags securely in hand, he took in a breath to speak.

“Thank you for dinner, Matsui-san. And thank you all for waiting up on me and Bokuto-san,” Akaashi said with a bow. Unbeknownst to him, which was quickly becoming a common theme in his life, his pleasantries couldn’t hide his lopsided grin. Matsui ruffled his hair and flashed a smile in return. A shout of, “THANKS, MATSUI!” thundered through the restaurant as the rest of the team echoed Akaashi, Bokuto trying his best to yell around the piping hot mound of steak he had shoveled into his mouth.

The whole group walked out the doors together, babbling and giggling as they moved, a little drowsy from the sheer amount of food each of them had consumed, no thanks to Matsui or Washio. At the storefront they split: Komi racing to catch up with Aoyama and Matsui; Washio and Konoha tugging along a drowsy Sarukui who had had to be supported out of the restaurant on his wobbly legs, falling asleep while he walked— Keiji knew that feeling all too well; and Akaashi starting off on his own only to hear the uneven pounding of increasingly more familiar footsteps following. Bokuto was pointedly watching the ground as he ran, careful to keep his footing, but took his laser vision off the imperfections in the concrete as he caught up.

“Hwmmf mfphsm fmpf?”

Akaashi slowly raised an eyebrow, shifting his bag to the opposite shoulder and looking at Bokuto. Saliva tracked down his swollen cheeks like honey, making a water-dampened circle appear on his shirt for the second time in as many hours. Akaashi must have missed him stuffing more food into his face as they exited, because his cheeks were stretched impossibly wide by beef. His eyebrow rose steadily higher.

“Bokuto-san, please finish chewing before you speak.”

With a swallow that looked terribly painful, the wince that accompanied it only proving his mistake, Bokuto tried again.

“How are you feeling after food?” He shot a soft smile down at Akaashi and then trained his focus to the floor once more, tongue poking through the side of his teeth, taking uneven steps to avoid touching cracks in the sidewalk beneath them.

“I’m feeling good, thank you.” He appreciated Bokuto’s attempt to look decidedly uninvested, but Akaashi wanted to put the locker room incident as far behind him as possible. “I didn’t know Sarukui was so bad at eating.”

A raucous laugh was pulled from the older boy. “He just gets sleepy. He probably eats the most out of all of us, but he gets really tired afterward. He won’t let himself eat that much on game days, because I don’t think he’d be able to play. And really, the only thing Konoha likes more than eating is volleyball. He’s like a puppy.” 

It was Akaashi’s turn to tilt his head in question.

“The only things he does are eat, sleep, and play,” Bokuto explained. And then his mind was off again, switching over to the next track. 

“You know, I used to have a puppy. Well, used to because she’s a big girl now, but she was the tiniest thing. She’s a pit bull, and she’s so sweet. We got her for my little sister’s third birthday, and she named her Honey Bear. It’s fitting, I think. I don’t understand the stigma about pit bulls, they’re just big lap dogs. We rescued Honey, actually. Apparently the family who had her first didn’t know she was a pit bull when they got her. When they eventually figured that out, they tied her up in their backyard and neglected her. The people who saved her said she had been making the most pitiful howls for three days before they realized she was in danger. It makes my heart hurt to think about.”

He ruffled in his bag for something while Akaashi sat in awe of how quickly his mind could just… shift topics. Admittedly, he was happy for it. The farther behind they left the locker room incident—for the time being— the better. He wondered how many times it was possible to feel thankful for one person in only a few hours, sure he was meeting a record level today. 

Mere moments later, Bokuto snapped back to full height, phone in hand. After waving it excitedly in Akaashi’s face, and effectively snapping him out of his thoughts, Bokuto clicked it on.

“Looooook!!!! She’s so cute!”

Akaashi cupped the sides of the phone to steady it while they walked and looked at his lock screen. A little gray dog stared innocently up at him, small black splotches littering its fur with one almost curiously heart-shaped across its snout, tongue lolling out through smiling teeth. Akaashi thought she was suspiciously familiar.

“She is very cute,” he hummed as he let go of the phone. They continued on in silence for a few paces, Bokuto enraptured by his photos and Akaashi enjoying the easy quiet.

“Say, ‘Kaashi?” Akaashi glanced at him sideways, imploring him to go on. “Where exactly is your house?”

Only then did Akaashi realize how far they had already walked. “It’s just down the street up ahead, on the left. It’s right after the stop sign. Why do you ask?”

“OHO HO HO! Because mine is across the street there!” Bokuto’s arm shot to the right, pointing to a little cottage style house with a slightly faded white fence, a dog just visible inside the home with its nose pressed to the front window. Akaashi now realized why the dog looked familiar. He passed that heart-speckled snout every day he went out in the summer, always on his way to the store with his mother. The same familiarity, however, could not be said of Bokuto before tryouts. Early morning runs were probably the most logical reason behind why Akaashi had never seen Bokuto before.

“We moved here last year since I got accepted to Fukurodani!” 

Or that was the reason. Akaashi smiled to himself as they walked the rest of the way to his house, thanking Bokuto profusely as he turned to walk inside. Bokuto waved with flare and then sprinted the few blocks to his own home. The last thing that Akaashi thought after he walked inside, showered, got ready for bed, tucked himself in and settled, was that their proximity would make it easier for him to ask to join the morning runs. 

He fell asleep grinning wildly, hopeful.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for reading! Sorry this update took a little longer to post because I've been out of town. I live for comments, so please tell me what you think! If you see any mistakes, let me know! Thank You!


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